


Ground Control

by noodlerdoodler



Series: Hargreeves Appreciation Week [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Sparrow Academy (Umbrella Academy), Body Dysmorphic Disorder, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Angst, Comfort Food, Diego Hargreeves is Bad at Feelings, Dyslexia, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Eating Disorders, Family Bonding, Gen, Good Sibling Diego Hargreeves, Loneliness, Luther Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Multi, Other, Protective Diego Hargreeves, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Sad Luther Hargreeves, Self-Destruction, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:15:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25963459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noodlerdoodler/pseuds/noodlerdoodler
Summary: They hadn’t seen each other again until Dad died. That wasn’t too bad though. Luther had been grateful that his brother hadn’t been around to watch his downfall, especially since he suspected he’d take great pleasure in it. Diego had been waiting his entire childhood to see him screw up.“It’s not your fault, you know,” Diego said, eventually, as he merged onto the next lane, “The stuff that Dad did to us. I know you feel responsible. But we were just children, Lu.”His stomach sank like a stone.
Relationships: Diego Hargreeves & Luther Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves & Luther Hargreeves, Luther Hargreeves & The Hargreeves
Series: Hargreeves Appreciation Week [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1884436
Comments: 14
Kudos: 211





	Ground Control

**Author's Note:**

> TW: disordered eating & binge eating. minor mention of self harm.

The light of the refrigerator lit up the room as Luther eased open the door, careful to do it quietly so that nobody heard him. He wasn’t sure how he’d be able to explain it if one of his siblings caught him rummaging through the refrigerator at, (he checked the clock), 2:44am and stuffing everything he came across down his throat. Studying the contents, he found the covered remainders of the casserole they’d had for dinner and lifted the lid off to study it. As if he would suddenly change his mind about eating it, as if his brain could switch tracks now.

Food had always been a source of comfort for him. When he was little, his mom had always cooked for him, (anything he asked for), whenever he got upset and it had eased the pain a little. The warmth of food settling in his stomach felt like love, like home. On the moon, he’d never been able to get enough food to fill the gaping hole inside of him, which felt like it was growing everyday. It felt like he was empty and aching all the time. He realised, of course, that it wasn’t really about being hungry anymore. He ate when he was lonely, when he was upset, and when he was angry. He reached for food when he needed comfort. 

Luther had been shovelling cold casserole into his mouth with a spoon, when he heard movement outside the door and froze where he was. He hadn’t heard anyone come downstairs- but there again, the entire world fell away from him when he was eating.

“Klaus? Can’t you sleep, bro?” came a soft voice from the doorway and Luther was surprised to see that his brother, Diego, was standing there, rubbing his eyes blearily, “Oh.”

Putting the spoon down quickly, Luther swallowed, “Sorry, did I wake you or-“

“Nah,” Diego was a bad liar, crossing the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water, “What are you doing up, big guy?” 

It was lucky that his brother was facing away from him, so that he didn’t see Luther flinch reflexively. He knew none of them really meant any harm when they joked about his size or his weight- even he did it sometimes, to ease the pain- but it stung to be reminded of his monstrous body. For the first year, Luther hadn’t even been able to look at himself. He’d showered in the dark and grimaced every time his hands brushed against the coarse hair that covered his entire upper body. Every time he’d worked out, he’d pushed himself to the point of pain and didn’t even care how much it hurt. Sometimes, he skipped the work out and just hurt himself outright. 

_“Hit me!”_ He’d yelled at the man in the boxing ring, a few weeks ago, because he wanted to hurt just as badly on the outside as he did on the inside. Luther felt like he deserved it. He was a bad person. 

“Midnight snack, hey? Gotta build up those muscles,” Diego slapped him affectionately on the back, (well, as affectionately as his brother was capable of). But both of them knew that Luther didn’t need to bulk up or follow any special diet to be strong- he’d been able to lift his own bodyweight when he was an infant. At least Diego had the tact to keep quiet about it. 

“You know it, bro,” Luther managed, replacing the lid on the casserole. He felt like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, like Diego had caught him doing something dirty or wrong. After his brother left, he’d finish off the casserole, Luther mused. Maybe a pint of ice cream too. He could always head out to a 24/7 store to get those cream-filled donuts he liked. 

Now holding a glass of water, to maintain his feeble excuse for being up, Diego just nodded to him and headed back towards the door. He mumbled something about going back to bed under his breath. Luther nodded to him. It was like they were both in a bizarre facade, playing at being normal- pretending that everything was just fine between the two of them. In truth, their relationship had always been rocky. It had only grown more so since their dad’s death. While they were much closer as a family now, Luther and Diego remained strangers to each other. 

“Hey,” Diego stopped in the doorway and turned back to him, “You want to go out somewhere?”

“Like, with you?” He frowned at him, puzzled, “O… kay?” 

They’d never spent much time together, just the two of them, and when they had it had never been through choice. Not that it was entirely their faults, of course. From a young age, their dad had pitted them against each other in training and encouraged friction between them. Luther had heard his father publicly belittle Diego on several occasions, reminding him that he would never be Number One, and privately, his father had always held Luther’s place as leader over his head as a threat. 

If he made one wrong move, Diego would be awarded the title of Number One, Reginald liked to remind him. _He’d probably do a better job at it too_. Guilt had followed Luther around like a puppy ever since the secrets of their home had been exposed, knowing that he’d let his entire family down. Including Diego. Wounds like that were hard to heal. 

Whistling as he went, his younger brother just pulled his leather jacket on over his shirt and pyjama pants, tossing the car keys in the air absentmindedly. Of course, his ability meant that he never dropped them. Once outside, Diego got into the driver’s seat of the car and gave him a look that said _I’m driving_. Squeezing into the passenger seat, Luther had no problem with this, especially since he had no idea where they were going. Diego was being so cagey about it, dodging all of his questions, that he just hoped they weren’t doing anything illegal.

Crime wasn’t out of the question when it came to Diego’s Saturday night plans. 

“You didn’t signal,” Luther pointed out, as he backed the car out onto the street.

Diego stared daggers at him, “I know what I’m doing. I taught you to drive, remember?” 

He was about to argue with him when, suddenly, he remembered: Diego _had_ taught him to drive. He’d the been the first one out of the five of them to learn, (did Five count if he learnt how to do it in the apocalypse?), though where he’d picked it up wasn’t clear. Probably Mom, though she wasn’t allowed out of the house back then. For such a hothead, Diego was a good driver and had been a decent teacher too. He’d been surprisingly patient with Luther and his nerves, even though he kept stalling the car, and hadn’t lost his shit when he took a wrong turn. 

Now that he thought about it, that was probably the last brotherly bonding time they’d had. Not long after that, Diego had left the Academy without looking back and seemingly disappeared off the face of the Earth. Luther had literally left the face of the Earth. They hadn’t seen each other again until Dad died. That wasn’t too bad though. Luther had been grateful that his brother hadn’t been around to watch his downfall, especially since he suspected he’d take great pleasure in it. Diego had been waiting his entire childhood to see him screw up. 

“It’s not your fault, you know,” Diego said, eventually, as he merged onto the next lane, “The stuff that Dad did to us. I know you feel responsible. But we were just children, Lu.” 

His stomach sank like a stone. He’d always assumed that Diego was far too wrapped up in playing the hero to even listen to him, let alone pay attention to the feelings he’d tried to bury. Had he not been as discrete as he thought? Did everybody know how much he hated himself? On top of his concerns, Luther now felt guilty about his prejudice towards his own brother. Immature and impulsive, only caring about protecting himself, that was how he had always seen Diego. He’d paid him little attention and assumed Diego didn’t give a shit about him either.

Luther was wrong. It turned out Diego gave several shits. 

“You haven’t called me that since we were kids,” He said quietly. 

They pulled up outside the gym, whose boiler room housed Diego before Dad had died and everything went to hell. Sick with guilt, Luther remembered how he’d gone poking around in there under the suspicion that Diego killed his father- he’d never trusted his brother. Now, he wasn’t entirely sure why that was. It was clear, especially after Dallas, that Diego was a good guy. Sometimes stupid and impulsive but always with the best intentions. And stupidly trusting: he’d been prepared to follow Lila to the ends of the Earth just because she was nice to him. 

To Luther’s surprise, they didn’t go inside like he was expecting. Instead, they went around the back and climbed up the fire escape, Diego hoisting himself up onto it with ease. He followed his brother, curious about where they were going, until they reached the very top of the building. The roof was flat and grey, like the rest of the building, and largely unremarkable. Curiously, the only notable things were targets, the kind commonly used for archery practice, and what reminded him of the fort that him and Allison had built as kids. 

It was clear that nobody had been up here in a little while. The fort had crumpled a little under the weather, probably knocked about by the wind, but stood strong. Diego adjusted it, tweaking the waterproof sheet that constituted the roof so that it held up better. 

“Diego… did you build a fort up here?” Luther raised an eyebrow at him. 

His brother tried (and failed) not to grin, “When I first moved out, I used to come up here a lot. The fresh air helps clear my head. It only made sense to make it more comfortable.”

Luther followed his brother, ducking inside, and found that it was surprisingly cozy inside, “So, what you’re saying is, you did build a fort.”

“I built a fort,” Diego admitted, flopping onto a pile of cushions, “Though fort seems like a flimsy word. For the record, it’s very structurally sound.” 

It certainly seemed that way, having held up in a few weeks of absence, and it struck him that Diego had put obviously put a great deal of work into his hidey-hole. Wood seemed to make up most of the internal structure, which was probably why it hadn’t fallen down in the wind, and while the outside was waterproof, the inside was cozy with pillows and blankets. On one hand, it didn’t seem to fit with Diego’s brand: he was very much a cool, tough sort of guy. But on the other hand, it definitely struck Luther as something that Mom would do and Diego was a lot like her. 

Luther had never been too close with Grace. He’d certainly loved her- as much as you can love your robot Mom/Nanny- and was grateful that she cleaned up after them and loved it when she cooked for him, feeling warm and safe whenever she was cooking. But his love for her had been an obligation, a lot like his love for his father. It was just what you were supposed to do (love your parents) so he just did and went on with his life. But Diego… he’d always been a momma’s boy, following her around day in and day out, relying on her as a source of comfort. 

“Yeah, if the whole saving the world thing doesn’t work out, you can fall back on a construction career,” Luther told him, half-joking, as he sat down opposite his brother. 

He supposed he better start thinking about his own plans. Four years on the moon and he had started to lose any sense of purpose outside of his work there- he had no idea what he wanted to do or even really what he liked to do. Even the boxing had just been an obligation, an easy way to occupy his time, and not really something he enjoyed. Now that the apocalypse was no longer coming, Luther really had no idea what he was going to do with his life. 

Shrugging, Diego drew one of his knives and started playing with it, twisting it in his hand in the same way most people would fidget with a pencil. If it was anyone but him, Luther would’ve assumed that bringing him up here was actually an elaborate plot to kill him. But his younger brother was happier than not when he had a knife in his hands. 

“Are you doing okay, bro? Seriously?” Diego glanced at him, wearing a look of slight concern that he usually reserved for Klaus, “You just seem so… self-destructive.” 

“Two months on the psychiatric ward and suddenly you’re using psychobabble on me?” Luther joked half-heartedly, before he let out a sigh, “No, I guess I'm not great.” 

He couldn’t even begin to point out the irony of Diego, who had played with knives since he was in kindergarten and regularly threw himself directly into danger for kicks, being the one to tell him he was being self-destructive. Not that he was wrong.

Part of him ached to confess in someone, anyone, just how miserable and lonely he had been for the last five years. Maybe even longer than that. However, his self-preservation instinct kicked in and he knew that he couldn’t tell Diego; even if he was just trying to be nice, they didn’t have a strong enough relationship to confide his secrets to him and he didn’t know Diego well enough to know how he’d react. Wait. How weird was it that he didn’t know his own brother very well?

Idly, Diego mentioned that their sister saw a therapist, if that was worth something? It was definitely a place to start. Someone professional, someone qualified, someone who wasn’t caught up in their insane family dynamic. Luther wondered if they’d be able to help with his food issues. Was there even anyone who dealt with food issues in men? 

For a while, they just hung out in the fort. Despite the tiredness evident in his face, Diego insisted on staying awake, although his sentences became more and more slurred with sleep. Mostly, they talked about things that didn’t matter that much but that in itself was interesting. His brother didn’t know that his father had used him as a threat to keep Luther in line or what things had been like after he’d left the Academy. It was smaller things too: Diego didn’t know his favourite colour or that he’d talked with Dad about one day being an astronaut long before the moon mission. 

There was a lot he didn’t know about Diego either. At this point, he wasn’t surprised.

“Wait, how long have you been dyslexic?” Luther frowned at him, “You’ve definitely never mentioned that before.” 

Drowsily, Diego snorted, “Forever. That’s kind of the whole deal. I only worked it out a few years back though, at the police academy. Dad just told me I was stupid.”

Everyday, Luther understood a little more about why his siblings had hated Reginald Hargreeves so much. He’d had a very different relationship with his father than the rest of them- for the most part, he’d been very encouraging to Luther, fed his ego with the whole ‘leader’ thing, and they’d spent a lot of time together. He was the only one who had known about Dad’s favourite place because he was the only one who’d been invited out there regularly to talk with him. While he’d had a fairly normal father-son relationship, Luther had no idea that his siblings were being locked up, bullied into training they didn’t want, and insulted to their faces. 

By the time they headed back to the Academy, the sun was starting to rise and Diego was too tired to drive. He tried to insist on it, (“I have the keys, asshole!”), but was forced to concede when it was pointed out his eyelids kept closing involuntarily. So, Luther drove them home while his brother half-dozed in the passenger seat, his head lolling to the side so his head rested against the window. When they parked up, he had to gently shake him awake. 

Closing the doors behind him quietly, Luther found that the Academy was almost as peaceful as when they left. Almost being the key word. He could hear muttering upstairs, as if someone was talking to themselves, and his suspicions were confirmed when Klaus came bounding down the stairs to greet them. How could anyone be so perky this early in the morning?

“Oh, no. Please don’t tell me you had some quality bro time without me?” Klaus groaned, throwing an arm around each of them with some difficulty, (they were drastically different heights), “Luther! When I saw your room was empty, I thought we could do donuts for brunch.”

Diego yawned, “We can still do donuts, stoner boy. You got the munchies?”

“Tummy’s a-grumblin’,” Klaus said, patting his stomach.

It would’ve been easy to just leave them to it. Head upstairs, crash onto his bed, and sleep until midday with Klaus safely in the hands of their brother. A few weeks ago, when they were still running in their own circles separate from each other, Luther definitely would’ve just left them there in the hallway and gone back to his own life. But now, after Diego choose to check up on him instead of getting some rest, (it was weird feeling like a priority), he felt like he couldn’t just walk away from his siblings anymore. They were family.

Besides, if he’d heard some interesting stories from Diego, he bet that Klaus could top any of them with ease. He wondered if there were things about Klaus that he didn’t know either, especially since he was sober now. Well, sober-ish. It could certainly be a lot worse than weed. And who was he to judge anyone for their coping mechanisms?

“I’ll take you for donuts,” He told Klaus, “Dee needs to catch some sleep before he passes out.”

This time, Diego didn’t even try and protest. He just nodded to him, sleepily, and traipsed up the stairs as if his legs were going to give out from under him at any minute. Luther expected Klaus to be disappointed. He knew that his siblings usually hated being stuck with him and who could blame them? He hated being stuck with himself too. However, to his surprise, Klaus jumped up and down in delight, clapping his hands together enthusiastically. 

“I was only asking Diego to be polite,” Klaus winked at him, hooking his arm through his, “Come on, big man, let’s get some cream-filled donuts. I know they’re your favourite.” 

The idea of stuffing himself full of donuts, using them to press down the feelings inside him that Diego had somehow managed to unearth, was a really tempting idea. When he was eating, it was like his mind went somewhere else and he could get some peace from the niggling voice in the back of his brain. The one that told him what a freak he was. But, now that he thought about it- really thought about it- Klaus’s endless chatter would probably do just as good a job at distracting him from the voice in his head. He hadn’t felt empty the whole time he’d been with Diego.

And everyone knew that Klaus was a much better conversationalist. 

“Okay, okay. But only one or two,” He ruffled Klaus’s messy curls affectionately, “Too early for a sugar binge, little buddy. And it’s on me. Least I could do for my-” He lowered his voice and winked at him, “- favourite brother.”

Klaus gasped dramatically, “I know I’m the obvious choice but still: I’m flattered!”

It felt good to make him smile.


End file.
